


Veni, Vidi, Wii-ci

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [53]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Competition, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Greek Life, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4018246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: 3. “we got into a really heated wii tennis match at the rec center and now i wanna bang you”</p><p>Summary: At the Greek Row Springfest, Clarke Griffin, co-president of Alpha Rho Kappa, is poised to be the weekend's Wii tennis champion--that is until her little's older brother, Bellamy Blake, shows up. Things get a little heated at the competition, and, much to her surprise, things get a whole lot more heated in a much different way later that night at their sorority's house party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veni, Vidi, Wii-ci

Clarke stared down the rowdy crowd, eyes scanning them triumphantly as she dared an opponent to rise. Based on what she saw in front of her, she felt pretty safe resting on her laurels. All of bros and biddies of the throng were sufficiently drunk on the free beer, warm weather, and the near taste of summer freedom that only her college’s Greek Row Springfest weekend could brew up, and no one seemed brave, or even alert enough, to challenge her for the crown.

“Anybody? Anybody daring enough to take on the reigning Wii Tennis champion?” Raven shouted into a megaphone, shit-eating grin on her face. “C’mon, she’s not as scary as she looks. I promise, I live with her—well, she’s kinda terrifying when she has her avocado-banana-oatmeal-whatever facemask on. Then she looks like the Hulk. But seriously—somebody’s gotta stop her! Otherwise she’ll be insufferable, and like I said, I live with her, so someone save me—”

“Somebody save  _me_  from you getting your hands on a megaphone!” Clarke yelled back, an equally pleased grin on her face.

“Zip it, Griffin,” Raven barked. “Unless you want photos of your alter-ego Hulk self surfacing on Facebook.”

Clarke rolled her eyes as the crowd cheered at the banter between her and her co-president. Those photos were going nowhere near Facebook, that much she knew. Raven was all bark and no bite (okay, maybe a little bit of bite), or so Clarke had learned almost immediately when they had been roomed together their first year in Alpha Rho Kappa. Between Raven’s passionate drive and her cool own logic, they had taken the sorority by storm, making it one of the most popular ones in Mt. Weather University’s Greek system in record time. They now were serving in their second year as co-presidents; it was their last year as well, considering they were graduating in two weeks.

 _Two weeks._ Clarke felt her smile slip just the slightest, because she didn’t really want to think about how her best friend was moving halfway across the country to go for a PhD in engineering at MIT while she’d be staying in California for medical school. They had two weeks left, and one of those weeks would be spent holed up in the library for finals, so really there was just one left.  

One week, seven days, god knows how many hours (too few, that Clarke did know) to spend wrapping up what had been a whirlwind four years. Embarrassingly, Clarke’s eyes began to sting, and she forcefully widened her smile, not wanting to burst into tears in front of all of Greek row. The smile froze on her face, however, when she realized that Raven was finally pointing to the solitary volunteer who was brave (read: arrogant, stupid, annoying) enough to take up the Wii Tennis challenge against her.

“Absolutely not!” Clarke yelled, scowling at Raven as her familiar (too familiar) opponent vaulted onto the stage, a smirk on his face. She was convinced Bellamy Blake—the ass who was her little’s older brother and also a masters student in history at Mt. Weather—didn’t know how to smile, just smirk, at least in her presence (she’d seen evidence to the contrary in the million pictures of him in O’s room, but she usually ignored that fact, and especially right now.)

“Afraid you’re going to lose?” Bellamy prodded loudly, raising his arms as he turned to the crowd with a skeptical look on his face. Loud, high-pitched cheers erupted in response; Clarke glared at the approving girls, especially the ones that were from her own sorority.  _So much for sisters before misters_ , she thought dryly.

“You wish,” Clarke growled at him before turning to complain to Raven in outrage at her allowance of his nomination. “He isn’t even an undergrad here, let alone part of the Greek system!”

“Nobody else seems to have a problem with that,” Raven chimed, and to Clarke’s disappointment, the throng clapped in agreement.

“Technically we’re family,” he argued, his grin still dripping with arrogance. “Your O’s sorority sister, I’m O’s brother—so I’m Greek by extension.”

“That’s not how it works,” Clarke retorted. “Seriously, if that’s your definition of logic, no wonder it’s taking you so long to get your masters.”

The hardness that flashed in Bellamy’s eyes made Clarke look away, guilt pricking at her. That had been thoughtless low blow on her part, because she did know he was taking an extra year so he could work part-time to pay Octavia’s tuition. She got mean when in competition, and her mouth had moved faster than her brain. There wasn’t much she could do in front of everybody, so she just bit her lip, straightened her shoulders, and reached for the Wii controller.

“Fine, let’s do this,” she relented grudgingly, hoping he would take her acceptance as an apology. She tensed as he just stood there. Finally, though, the crowd began chanting his name, and then he slyly cracked a smile when they added clapping and foot-stomping into the cheer. As he reached for his own controller, he bowed slightly to the onlookers as he stepped up next to her.

“Dramatic much?” She muttered, raising her eyebrows in challenge.

“Gladiators used their fighting skills to survive the arena, but it was really their theatrics that kept them alive—approval of the masses and all,” he bantered back, quirking a teasing smile at her. “Something to keep in mind, Clarke.”

She just scoffed and turned her attention back to the projector screen, a sour taste in her mouth at the way her stomach flipped nervously at the heat in his eyes. “The only thing I have in mind is that gift card to The Bunker that I’m going to win in a few minutes.”

“Pride goeth,” he whispered, his low voice sending shivers down her spine.

Clarke gripped her controller tighter with a sweaty hand, flexing her fingers in anticipation. She took a breath. The game trilled to a start.

* * *

“One more shot for the reigning Wii Tennis champion!” Raven bellowed over the deafening noise of the music and partygoers. Answering cheers from surrounding friends wafted up into the warm night as the stars twinkled down on their house’s crowded backyard all decked out in tiki torches, lei garland, and lots of bowls filled with jungle juice.

In response, Raven unceremoniously grabbed Clarke’s hand and licked it, dashing salt on the wet part before shoving a shot of tequila up to her lips. Groaning, Clarke sucked up the salt, accepted Raven’s very sloppy slosh of the alochol into her mouth, then twisted her lips when there was no lime to follow.

“You’re trying to kill me, Rae,” she said hoarsely, her throat still burning from the liquor. “I don’t want to get out of my exams that badly.”

“Suck it up, girl. Gotta get you trained up for senior week.”

“I hate you.”

“Aw, I hate you, too.”

Raven smacked a kiss on her cheek before whirling into the crowd, tequila bottle in hand, probably off to harass the first-year sisters. Sighing with a small chuckle, Clarke shook her head then licked her lips, her tongue tingling at the lingering traces of salt.

“So that’s where my sister got her love of tequila.”

Clarke didn’t know where Bellamy had come from but she stifled a groan because she was too drunk to deal with him in all his, his— _whateverness_ tonight. Staring at him, trying to think of a response, she opened her mouth, but what came out surprised her.

“Why did you let me win today?”

The red solo cup in his hand crinkled as his grip on it tightened; apparently she had surprised him too. He smiled at her—not smirked, smiled, so that was new—his eyes twinkling at her over the rim of his cup as he took a drink.

“And what makes you think I let you win?”

“Because I’ve seen you play it with Octavia in the house on weekends, and you beat her every time, and she’s the best player I know.”

“Apparently aside from yourself.”

“She wins every time we play, so, no. You’re avoiding the question.”

His smile wobbled a bit, and he glanced down at his drink, staring at it intensely as if he’d find his answer there.

“Because I didn’t want to win.”

“You? Not want to win? C’mon,” Clarke prodded, her voice dipping towards pleading. He was holding back, a very un-Bellamy trait, and it made her very curious.

“Because,” he started, his gaze back on her, but he never finished, his words trailing off.

Clarke felt her lips curve into a grin, because he was looking a little lost, and that was also new, and it made her stomach clench, in a good way. “Because?” She prompted, a little archly.

Clearing his throat, Bellamy let out a laugh (a  _nervous_  one, to Clarke’s shock) and continued, “ _Because_  if I’m going to take you to The Bunker on a date, I’m going to pay for it with my own money, not with a gift card that I won from you.”

Her lips parting in surprise, she felt her entire body froze, except for her heart, which picked up rapidly at his admission. “Oh,” she commented finally in a high tone. “Um, well. Right, so. When exactly did I agree to this date?”

Bellamy laughed again, a full-bodied one this time that ended in a sheepish grin. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“Very much,” Clarke teased, leaning in just the slightest towards him anyways. “May I add that you called us family earlier, just to make this even weirder.” 

“O’s never going to let me live this down,” he groaned, looking back at his cup but still smiling.

“She doesn’t have to know…if,” Clarke murmured.

Bellamy jerked his head up to look at her, and Clarke was so close that she felt his breath catch.

“If?” He exhaled, shifting towards her, slowly, languidly.

“If,” she repeated, her focus flicking between his eyes and his lips. “If you agree to a rematch.”

With a small chuckle, he ran a hand through his hair but never broke away from looking at her, heat in his eyes. “When and where?”

“The Wii is upstairs in my room.”

“So if I win, O never hears of this,” he whispered, so quietly she could barely hear him above the bass pounding from the speakers in their backyard, but she grew warm at his words nonetheless. “And if you win?”

“I get to pay for our date.”

They were so close that she felt his lips brush against hers as they curled up into a satisfied smile.

“Done.” Then he took off, striding through the crowd, the familiar smirk back on his face as he yelled over his shoulder, “I’m getting the good controller this time though!”

“You’re a fucking cheater, Bellamy!” She called back, hot on his heels.

She caught up to him on the stairs, but by the time they reached the second-floor landing, all thoughts of which controller she was getting were out of her head. The only thing she could think about was how amazing his lips felt as they crashed against hers, and how good his hands felt as they gripped her hips, his rough fingertips pressing into her heated skin as he guided her into her bedroom, slamming the door behind them, because really, O didn’t need to know about this, at least not right this particular minute.

**Author's Note:**

> psst, ignore that it's the greek system but the title is latin - the pun worked too well for me to not do it :)


End file.
